Of neighbors and fences
by labyrinth38
Summary: Brief HC fic set around the events of "Risky business" (S08E04). House has just returned from prison and started a "prank-war" with the new orthopedist next door... Of House, Dr. Morgan, ankle bracelets, accidents, and why fences are not actually always needed to bring out the best in your neighbor! ;)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys :) I know it's been forever, but I recently went back to watching some old episodes, so here's a little something from the House universe again (probably two or three chapters)… Setting is early Season 8, after the "prank-war" with the orthopedic next door. ;) Have fun!**

* * *

Placing the cast saw into one of the cupboards and turning off the main light, Dr. Morgan was just about ready to leave. It had been an incredibly long day that had not exactly been made any easier by the frequent interruptions and subsequent prank-war with House. Though, to be fair, it had been a little bit funny, especially once the nausea had abated and the plastering of the older man's entire office had begun.

He had of course known that House wouldn't be happy with him having occupied most of his former office space to expand the treatment rooms of the orthopedics department, but then again: Most of the staff thought that he was lucky to have been employed again _at all_ after his stint in prison, no matter how cramped his work environment now might be. He himself was pretty sure that the hospital profited at least as much from House's return as the man himself – he hadn't been blind to the increased number of lost cases over the last eight or so months…

Then again, the man was an ass, that much was clear. None of the stories he had heard about him seemed even the least exaggerated. It was probably only a matter of time until this whole thing between them would blow up completely, and he just hoped that no jobs would be lost in the process… That _his_ job wouldn't be lost in the process!

Still recalling the events of the day, he once again glanced back towards the other man's office, where light was still dimly emenating from probably the desk lamp. He hadn't heard anything from the man himself for a couple of hours at least, but that didn't mean anything. He had already noticed that House usually worked late, even after his team had long left the place. Might have something to do with the fact that he didn't really have anywhere else to _go_ at the moment, if there was any truth to the rumors of the ankle bracelet he had heard the nurses giggling about…

Grimacing slightly at the idea, he had already pulled his keys out to lock up the room, when he suddenly heard a dull thumping sound from behind the glass door. Abruptly interrupting his actions, he hesitated, waiting to hear something more, cursing maybe or sounds of pain, but the room was completely quiet again now. Still, doctorly care was hard to break it seemed.

"House?" He finally called out, already rolling his eyes at himself. The man certainly hadn't done anything to warrant his concern. "Everything okay over there?"

When no reply was coming, he reluctantly entered his office again. "House…?" He now approached the door separating their treatment room from House's office, knocking once, trying to see through the glass into the semi-darkness.

"Yes." Finally a gruff reply, though the other's voice sounded a little strained. But that was okay; a sign of life at least. And a chance for him to still make it home before midnight…

"Everything okay?" A rhetorical question really; he had already half-turned around again to finally leave this place.

"Yes!" Okay, now that sounded angry. "Now leave me the fuck alone."

Something made the orthopedist hesitate. As gruff as House per se seemed to be even on his good days, he sounded really off right now. Pissed; _pained_.

Decision made, he turned towards the glass-door again giving it another light knock. Without waiting for permission, he then just pushed it open. – If this was another goddamn prank, he'd simply kill the man…

What he found didn't seem like much of a prank though.

House was right now kneeling on the floor, one hand on an office-chair opposite his desk, one hand on the surface of the desk itself, obviously trying to gain enough leverage to push/pull himself up again. He had the foot of his good leg on the ground, but right now still seemed in the 'preparation phase' of the movement, bracing himself for more pain perhaps… At least, right now, he wasn't moving. – Morgan's frown deepened.

"What happened…?" He quickly entered the room now, approaching the other man a little cautiously. House seemed very pale and was sweating profusely.

"Nothing." Was the almost expected answer, anger still clouding his tone. "Now get out. I don't need an audience for this…"

Morgan simply ignored the gruff order, fully focused on the other man now. "Did you fall?" He looked around briefly, trying to spot the cane.

To his surprise, House finally managed an at least semi-truthful answer in the form of a reluctant nod. "Leg folded when I got up and tried to take a step," he admitted quietly, briefly eyeing his recliner, where he had probably been resting before. He never met Morgan's by now openly concerned gaze.

"Okay." The orthopedist decided to take charge now. "Let's try to move you over there again. – No weight on the leg for now," he warned before simply pulling House's right arm off the chair and around his own shoulders. Once he had a good grip on him, he slowly stood up again while pulling the other man with him.

He heard House inhale sharply as soon as his leg straightened at the movement, but other than that he made no sound. When he then paled some more, Morgan quickly supported him the half-step towards the recliner before gently guiding him to sit down.

To his surprise, House immediately sank back against the back rest, his eyes losing some of their focus. Morgan gently but firmly shook his right shoulder. "Stay with me, House! No slacking off now…"

That seemed to rouse the other man somewhat again, who at least moved his good leg onto the ottoman now, without – however – any attempt to bring the right one up as well.

Morgan laid a careful hand around the ankle. "I'm lifting the leg, okay?"

He waited for House to confirm with a minute nod.

Slowly moving the leg onto the foot rest, he tried to ignore the tightly controlled sounds of pain the action elicited from the other man.

Not hesitating any more now, he next unlaced the shoe on the right side, gapping it, before carefully sliding it off the obviously swollen foot. House moaned openly at that.

"Did you hurt the foot or ankle?" He had already started to gently feel for the different bones after carefully sliding the ankle bracelet a little bit further up the leg.

House simply shook his head, flinching when the orthopedist pressed a little more firmly to check the foot pulses first at the ankle, then at the instep.

After that, his hands started travelling up the leg, next stopping at the knee. "Anything hurt here?" He was already gently probing the joint.

House had closed his eyes tightly by now, still tense, still sweating. "Whole damn thing hurts right now," he finally ground out, pressing the words through literally gritted teeth.

That's when Morgan remembered the nerve damage that was most probably contributing to House's chronic pain problem. – He carefully removed his hands again, before simply standing up to leave the room.

When he caught the almost panicked look House threw him at that, he briefly wondered just how big of an ass House thought he was. Calmly returning the other man's unusually anxious gaze, he simply explained: "I'm going to get you something for the pain."

When he returned a minute later, he calmly started to prepare a syringe. "How much have you had today and what?"

House once again averted his gaze, but replied immediately: "Hydrocodone; 60 mg."

The orthopedist didn't so much as blink at the information, clearly unsurprised. "I'm giving you a shot of morphine. – Have you ever had trouble tolerating it?"

Just a small shake of the head.

"Okay, good. Just hang tight; you'll be feeling better in a moment…"

Quickly locating a good vein, he was just about to start pushing the drug, when House suddenly pulled away slightly, eyeing the syringe a hesitant, but otherwise unreadable look on his face. Frowning slightly at the unexpected reaction, Morgan finally understood. – Apparently, trust didn't come easily to the other man…

Wordlessly holding the small bottle of Morphine in front of House's face, he allowed the older man to study the label. When House finally just closed his eyes again turning his head away slightly, he took that as permission to continue.

Carefully starting to push the drug, Morgan decided not to comment on the awkward situation instead explaining quietly: "It's not enough to knock you out, just enough to get the pain under control for now." Then, briefly glancing up at his 'patient' again: "You still with me, House? You look shocky. Just breathe, okay?"

The other man nodded minutely at that, but his breathing remained shallow.

Putting the syringe away, the orthopedist studied him with another small frown. Then his eyes went to the back part of the recliner. "Does this go back any farther? I would like for you to lie down some more, House."

The other man weakly nodded again, hand fumbling for a small lever at the side of the chair. Morgan made him recline as far as the chair went back, then sat back slightly, unobtrusively monitoring House's respirations.

After a few minutes, the medicine finally seemed to do its magic, House's features starting to relax a bit, some color at last returning to his face.

"Bet you're having a field-day with this…"

Morgan abruptly looked up at the bitter words, searching the other man's face for any traces of sarcasm. – To his shock, he couldn't find any.

He focused on keeping his voice calm, impassive.

"Sure. Love seeing people hurting… That's why I became an orthopedic surgeon."

The quick comeback made one corner of House's mouth twitch slightly, but he didn't say anything else.

Morgan took this chance of keeping control of the situation. "I'd like to take a look at the leg, House."

This time, there was an immediate reaction.

"No."

Morgan rolled his eyes at the categorical decline.

"Listen, man. I'm not just leaving you here with pain like that, without at least making sure that you didn't do any more serious damage."

House once again glanced away at that, his voice quiet now. "I fell; it happens. The leg didn't like it. End of story." When the orthopedist didn't immediately reply anything, he apparently decided to clarify again: "I'm not hurt."

Morgan eyed him for a long moment, finally deciding that there was probably no winning this argument right now. "Okay," he finally conceded reluctantly. "But I'm gonna get you a pair of crutches; I don't see you walking on this leg any time soon…"

He brought the walking aids back a minute later, once again eyeing the other man critically. "Are you gonna make it home okay? I could give you a ride if you want…"

House immediately shook his head, very briefly meeting the younger man's gaze. "Nope. I'm good."

Nodding shortly, Morgan turned to leave the room.

"But thanks…"

He smiled slightly at the quiet words but didn't turn around again. Simply nodding his head again, he finally went to go home.

tbc…


	2. Chapter 2

Entering treatment room #2 around 10 a.m. the next morning, Dr. Morgan wasn't entirely surprised to find Dr. House sitting on one of the exam tables. He saw the older man roll his eyes in a clear gesture of annoyance as soon as he spotted the orthopedist. Apparently, he hadn't expected _him_ of all doctors to perform his clinic duty this morning…

"Dr. House!" He forced himself to remain completely professional, deciding at once that this was not the moment to continue their territorial mini-war. "Good to see you up again." Then, trying not to make this any harder on the other man than it already had to be: "Leg still giving you trouble…?"

It wasn't exactly a long shot.

House hesitated briefly – clearly fighting with himself over something – before finally just nodding his head. He had already changed into an examination gown, so at least the awkwardness of undressing would not be an issue this morning.

Morgan nodded, moving towards the footpart of the table. "Okay. Lie back for me, please."

House did so with obvious difficulties.

Eyeing the right foot and lower leg, one problem became immediately apparent.

"Okay, House. There's quite a bit of swelling. – The bracelet needs to come off."

House immediately shook his head, one hand going to rub his once again sweaty forhead. "Not… possible!" Even though his tone was trying for nonchalant, he was clearly still in huge amounts of pain.

Carefully touching the bracelet and finding it to be practically immovable due to the very tight fit it made, Morgan nodded determinedly. "Yes, possible. It's impairing the circulation. – It needs to come off."

When House still hesitated, he once again took charge of the situation. "Do you have a number I could call? Someone I could talk to to explain the situation?"

House looked almost a little lost all of a sudden. "I don't know, I… There's probably a parole officer, but I've never met him. – Foreman has been arranging the whole thing."

Without another word, Morgan went to one of the stationary phones near the door quickly punching in a few numbers. "This is Dr. Morgan. I need to talk to Dr. Foreman, please." A brief pause; then: "It's quite urgent. Please ask him to come to the phone for a moment." Another pause, then: "Thank you." He briefly glanced at his patient while waiting for their current dean of medicine to answer the phone, noting his very tense posture and tightly clenched left fist.

"Dr. Foreman, this is Dr. Morgan. – I'm sorry to interrupt you, but this couldn't wait unfortunately… I'm calling about Dr. House, he – " A brief pause, while Foreman was apparently talking. Morgan rolled his eyes. "No, it's not about – Wait a minute! I'm calling because Dr. House is down here with me at the clinic. He injured his leg – I need to remove the ankle bracelet."

House had stilled completely by now, obviously following the one end of the conversation he could hear.

Another eye-roll. "No, he didn't bribe me… Come on, Foreman, you know me better than that." He sounded almost a little angry by now. "I'm not kidding you. There's some swelling and the bracelet is making things worse. It needs to come off, _now_. There's no question about that. I'm just calling so you can let whomever it is that is monitoring this stuff know that we cut if off for legit reasons; so there are no misunderstandings…"

Then, icily: "Do what you have to do, but I'm cutting that thing off now." With that, he simply hung up the phone.

Returning with a pair of scissors, he simply started cutting the plastic part of the bracelet, careful not to hurt the skin of the ankle in the process. He felt House tense some more.

"Relax, House. I'm being real careful…"

The moment the bracelet came off, House exhaled audibly in a mixture of relief and pain. He once again seemed awfully pale…

"House?" Dr. Morgan briefly touched the other man's arm, trying to get his attention. "Give me a number for pain, okay? One to ten…"

In a gesture that was quickly becoming familiar, House averted his gaze, still breathing heavily. "An eight; maybe…" He sounded reluctant at the admission, although why, Morgan had no idea.

"Okay. What have you taken so far…"

"Hydrocodone. 30 or 40 mg. – Lost some of it again though…"

Morgan winced at that. Hard to imagine the kind of pain it would take for a man like House to actually throw up…

He started to prepare a syringe.

"Okay, listen, House. I would like to make a very brief assessment of the leg before I give you anything. – But I've prepared a syringe now, which I'm going to give to you, as soon as I've taken a quick look, alright?"

In exactly that moment, Forman entered the room without knocking.

"What the hell is going on here." He sounded angry more than anything else.

Morgan turned towards him, immediately straightening up. "Excuse me?!"

"I wanna see the injury, or I'm not calling _anybody_."

Morgan calmly met his gaze. "That's not for me to decide." He turned towards his patient. "Dr. House…?"

House's expression was unreadable, but he briefly shrugged one shoulder. "Whatever. – But no touching…"

Turning towards the footpart of the exam table, Foreman briely eyed the syringe Morgan was still holding. "I hope he didn't con you into anything. – He's got Vicodin as a standard prescription, you know…?"

Dr. Morgan just smiled at him at the 'advice'. "I can handle the medical side of this, Dr. Foreman; but thank you…"

Foreman's attention was by now fixed on House's leg, the lower part of which was visible beneath the hospital gown. "Yeah, okay; there's some swelling. Not sure it would have been absolutely necessary to cut it off, but what's done is done I guess. – I'm gonna call his parole officer and explain the situation. He will probably ask us to keep an eye on him, until a new one has been attached..."

House's face closed off completely at that, while Morgan felt anger creeping up himself. "I doubt that he'll be running anywhere anytime soon," was all he finally gave back, unable to suppress the sarcasm in his tone.

Foreman sighed at that. "Listen, Dr. Morgan. I'm not the bad guy here. I'm just trying to make sure he doesn't pull a typical 'House' on you."

Morgan was slowly but surely losing his patience. "Yeah, well. I'm more concerned with finally _assessing my patient_ now and getting him some treatment, if you don't mind…"

Once Foreman had left the room without another comment, House exhaled audibly, some of the pain finally showing on his face again. Morgan didn't hesitate anymore now and turned towards the leg.

"Okay, House. I need you tell me what hurts more than it should right now." Given the man's chronic pain situation, this seemed to be the logical question to ask.

"Knee." Was the immediate response, once again pressed through gritted teeth.

Morgan nodded at that. "Alright. What about the old injury… I don't know your history on that." He was already reaching for the gown to push it up slightly, when his hand was suddenly caught in an iron grip. Despite his surprise he didn't fight the other man's hold on him, instead simply letting his hand relax.

"Come on, House, I'm a doctor. I just wanna take a quick look; I'm not putting it up on YouTube…"

House didn't let go off his hand, but he slowly loosened his hold. "There's nothing to look at. Just some… scar tissue. – I had an infarction, about thirteen years ago, which led to first muscle death, then debridement surgery of the quadricepts. That's it. End of story…"

Gently extracting his hand from the other man's grip, Morgan simply nodded. "Okay. For a complete assessment of the leg, I still need to see it; feel for heat, look for swelling… You know that. It'll just take me a minute."

Silence for several long moments. Then House finally swallowed once, before shakily lifting his hand off the thigh, reluctantly giving up the protection.

Quickly sliding up the gown, Morgan immediately started to inspect the thigh, then carefully probe the knotted tissue, trying not to outwardly react to the sight of the _massive_ scar and tissue indentation.

"Nerve damage…?" He finally asked quietly.

Just a nod.

He lightened his touch some more…

Once he had checked the thigh area for any acute heat or swelling, he quickly pulled the gown down again to once more cover the scar. Moving his hands to the knee itself, he then started off by checking the pulse at the back of the joint, aware now of the man's previous history regarding circulation issues.

"Good pulse," he calmly reported without interrupting his examination. "I'm gonna check for tenderness around the knee joint now, then give you something for the pain before we do the functional exam, okay?"

He thought he saw House nod slightly again, but didn't receive any verbal reply.

"Is any of this painful?" He gently palpated the different parts of the knee, watching the other man for reactions.

He felt him wince slightly once or twice.

"A little."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll give you some Demerol now, then check the mobility and stability of the joint. – The bones feel fine so far, but there might be some ligament damage…"

Not getting any protest from his patient, he quickly injected the analgesic.

When he saw House relax slightly after a few minutes, he gently took hold of the leg again. "I'm gonna quickly check the mobility of the joint. Let me know when it gets too much, okay?"

Carefully starting to bend the leg, he elicited a strangled moan from his patient before meeting strong resistance after about 90 degree. Straightening the leg out was easier, but still seemed to hurt the other man.

"Okay, you know the drill… Functional tests next; just try to relax." Taking more time now to test the stability of the joint and ligaments, Morgan noted that House seemed relatively fine pain-wise as long as he didn't put any strain on the thigh muscle. _That_ he seemed to be feeling even through the opioid boost…

"Okay, House. We're almost done here." He patted the right foot lightly. "Can you pull your leg towards yourself? Try to bend the knee as far as you can…"

Firmly gritting his teeth, House tried to comply and actually managed a small movement, before suddenly just starting to retch. – Startled, Morgan managed to hand him a small basin, just in time…

"Sorry…" House sounded breathless, weakly handing back the basin. Morgan frowned at the very small amount of bile it held.

"You're dehydrated, House. – If you're still feeling nauseous after we've braced the leg, I'm prescribing you an antiemetic…"

Quickly disposing of the basin, he waited for his patient to sit up again before handing him a cup of water and settling on a stool right in front of him to inform him about his preliminary diagnosis.

"So… It looks like an ACL; based on the functional tests, I'd say it's a partial tear. – Lachman test was positive, but with a firm end point; pivot shift test was negative." Reaching for the patient chart, he started writing something down. "I'm ordering an MRI and x-rays to have a closer look at everything."

House gave a bitter half-laugh at that. "Seriously?! You wanna waste a thousand bucks on a leg that's already fucked anyway…?"

Giving the other man a stern look, Morgan otherwise completely ignored the remark. "After that, we can talk surgery if we have to, depending on what the scans show us. – But it'll probably already feel a lot better with a brace on, and some rest and ice."

Rummaging around in one of the cupboards, he returned with a hinged knee brace a minute later. "Let's see if we can support the leg a bit with this... Can you please lie back again?" He carefully started fitting the brace around the by now remarkably swollen knee. Strapping its lower part around the shin quickly enough, he then slowly closed the Velcro around the lower thigh right above the knee joint, just below the old scar.

"This feel okay…?" He carefully tightened the strap.

House frowned slightly down at his leg, but replied with a small nod. "Think so."

When he then suddenly winced sharply, Morgan eyed him critically. "You sure? We can also get you a whole-leg brace that might fit more comfortably…"

House started to shake his head, but then suddenly jerked again, face paling up quickly now. "Maybe," he swallowed thickly, "not a bad idea… I don't know what's wrong." He sounded strangly disconcerted by the notion. – For some reason it made Morgan smile slightly, but he immediately sobered again when he saw sweat once again appearing on the other man's forehead.

"Probably just too much pressure too close to the damaged nerves," he kept his voice calm, carefully opening the upper strap again. "Don't worry about it."

A few minutes later, House's leg was finally supported by a whole-leg soft brace that didn't seem to cause him any more pain around the old injury. Waiting for him to slowly sit up again, Morgan eyed his patient critically once more.

"You feeling any better? – How's the pain now?"

House very briefly met his gaze, replying with another minute nod. "It's… good for now; thanks." His eyes flicked away again.

Morgan suppressed another smile. "No problem. I'll have radiology squeeze you in in an hour, if that's okay for you. If you come see me again after that, we can have a look at the scans together. – You want some more water before you go? Your color still isn't great…"

House seemed startled by the remark, frowning in something that looked like a mixture of confusion and slight annoyance. He was already reaching for his crutches, when he finally replied in a clipped tone.

"I'm fine, it's no big deal. And you can stop that whole 'pretending to care' act, 'cause I'm not falling for it."

Exhaling slowly as soon as House had left the exam room, Morgan shook his head before sarcastically informing himself and the now empty room: "Well… This is gonna be fun!"

Tbc… :)


	3. Chapter 3

When House crutched into his office a few hours later, Morgan had already put the scans up ready to be evaluated by the two doctors. The orthopedist nodded towards them without preamble.

"It's a partial tear of the ACL, just as expected based on the clinical picture… The menisci are fine, fortunately, as are the other ligaments. No indications of any fractures or dislocations." Then he gestured towards another scan, clearly depicting the thigh right above the knee, no longer the joint itself. "We also took a look at the rest of the leg, due to the rather diffuse pain you experienced earlier. – There's a strain in the lower thigh muscle, rectus femoris; grade I, from the looks of it… The ankle is okay; everything else looks okay as well."

House seemed a little annoyed for some reason, but kept himself from commenting. Instead he just mumbled in Morgan's general direction: "So… Treatment?" He looked distinctly uncomfortable, though the orthopedist had no idea why. – He decided to focus on the medicine for now.

"We should keep the leg braced for a while. – Does it still feel okay?" He nodded towards the leg that he had fitted with a whole-leg soft brace earlier. House just gave a clipped nod in response. "Good. – I don't recommend surgery in your case; for an ACL injury, the knee is still relatively stable. Some rest and then a few weeks of physio should be enough to further stabilize the joint and prevent any additional damage."

Studying his patient for a moment, he finally continued more quietly. "Both the old and new thigh injuries of course complicate matters some, but at least the acute strain should heal fine within a couple of weeks. The physio protocols will need to be adjusted to accommodate your previous injury, but all things considered, I would expect you to make a full recovery in about 6 to 8 weeks." He paused briefly to stress his next point. "But you _do need_ physio for this, House, at least if you wanna avoid surgery. An ACL tear – even if it's a partial one – doesn't just go away on its own…"

When House just nodded briefly again and started moving towards the door without another word, Morgan frowned and held up a hand. "House! Wait a minute; we still need to talk medication."

"I'm on pain meds already, thanks." He had already reached the door.

Morgan quickly put a hand on one of his crutches, effectively stopping his progress. "That need to be adjusted, at least temporarily. You were in a lot of pain earlier…" He kept his voice gentle; calm.

"There's hardly even an _injury_! I'm fine." The anger was back, and this time Morgan thought he understood what this might be about really.

He narrowed his eyes.

"You don't think an _ACL tear_ is an _injury_ …?" Incredulously. Then: "The ACL is the most important – "

"Oh, relax. I didn't mean to offend your precious ligament. – I know it's an injury. Just usually not a very _painful_ one."

"There is no 'usually', House. And you also have a muscle strain, in case you forgot."

"Oh, boohoo. Grade I. Poor me. There's almost no coming back from that one, is there…"

This time, Morgan started to wearily rub his forehead, feeling completely out of his depth in this conversation.

"House…" He somehow managed to say the name and sigh at the same time. "One third of your thigh muscle is missing and you have severe nerve damage in a region that's directly _connected_ to two soft-tissue structures of your leg that show actual, acute _tears_ right now. It'd be a miracle if your pain levels _weren't_ significantly up." _There's nothing to be ashamed of._ – He didn't say that last part out loud, obviously, but he hoped it was heavily implied…

When the older man didn't reply anything, but also didn't move any further, he continued in a quiet, yet firm, voice: "This needs to be addressed medication-wise. There's no reason to stress your system with an undertreated pain situation. And once the Demerol wears off, I suspect you'll be agreeing with me…"

Without waiting for a reply, he went over to his desk looking for his prescription pad. "I'm writing you a script for oxycodone, which I think you should fill, but it's of course your decision." He looked up at his patient again who had at least turned away from the door for now. "I assume you've already started yourself on Ibuprofen?" Just a nod. "Keep taking it at least for the first week. – You want some omeprazole with that?" House shook his head no, once again uncharacteristically quiet now. "Okay, but don't forget to eat regularly with it then… Also, keep applying ice today and tomorrow. Keep the leg up as much as you can. On Monday, I suggest you start with some mild physio. You can do that here with us, if you'd like, or I can write you a referral."

House just nodded briefly. "'Kay. – Thanks."

Morgan narrowed his eyes slightly. "Does that mean you'd like a referral?"

House threw him another semi-annoyed look at that, before once again averting his gaze. "Can't really leave the hospital anyway, so I might as well make use of the local infrastructure. – Guess there's only so much even _your_ guys can screw up with a muscle strain…"

Morgan couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. "Wow, ringing endorsement, House. Thanks so much for your trust in and appreciation of our services..." He joined his patient again now to hand over the prescription. Briefly holding onto it, he waited for House to reluctantly meet his gaze. Then he simply nodded slightly. "Okay then… See you on Monday."


	4. Chapter 4

"Dr House. Need a consult..."

House's complete team turned towards the glass door at the rude interruption of their differential, staring at Dr Morgan as if he was some sort of alien creature.

House looked at him for a moment before finally just grimacing slightly. "Don't… think so! Bones and joints – not really my area of expertise."

"Funny. I thought just about _everything_ was your area of expertise," Morgan immediately countered.

An almost-smile briefly crossed House's face before the mask was once again firmly in place. "Already got a patient, sorry."

But the other man wasn't so easily deterred. "It'll only take you a minute." With that, he simply waited.

Hesitating another few seconds, House finally rolled his eyes. "Okay. Just let me finish this here."

Nodding slightly, Morgan retreated back into the corridor.

House's team synchronously turned back towards their boss, seemingly speechless for the moment.

It was Chase – newly back with them – who finally voiced all of their thoughts. " _Okay_ …?!" he echoed dully, eyeing the older man skeptically. "Since when do you take consult requests at random times from random doctors?"

"Why Chase! It's our job to _heal_ people! – Whyever _wouldn't_ I take such a request?" House gave a comic expression, voice dripping of sarcasm.

Taub now joined in as well. "Seriously, though... Who the hell is this guy?!"

"He's from the orthopedics department," Park commented quietly when House remained silent.

"Got that from the bones and joints, thanks."

She simply continued as if Taub hadn't spoken. "Though last week, I got the impression that we were trying to get _rid_ of him…"

Chase's eyes suddenly narrowed at that. He fixed his boss with a knowing look. "He the guy who's been treating you for your leg?"

House looked a little uncomfortable, but eventually confirmed with a small nod.

Then, obviously intent on putting an end to the unwanted discussion: "Soo… Since I think we're all agreeing that there's a tumor _somewhere_ – go! Find." He gestured them all towards the door.

Morgan joined him a minute later placing a patient chart in front of him, before sitting down in one of the chairs.

Taking just a cursory look, House immediately closed the file again. "He's already been diagnosed." Then, sarcasm once again firmly in place: "Diagnoses happen at the _end_ of what I'm doing…"

Morgan smiled slightly at that. "I know. You're also a nephro-guy though, right? Need a therapy recommendation."

House just stared at him. When nothing more was coming, he finally explained with exaggerated patience: "And for that, we've got an actual _nephrology_ department."

Another slightly weary half-smile. "Conners is at a conference in Hawaii. And the rest of them don't seem to know their… pituitary from their adrenal gland."

When House finally opened the chart again, once more quickly scanning the numbers, Morgan took the time to study him for a moment. "So, how's the PT going?" he finally threw in casually.

House didn't even look up from the patient file. "PT-ish."

Silence briefly; then: "I've read your therapy notes, House. You've barely been getting through any of the exercises."

"Yeah, well, those exercises are _stupid_!" He sounded immediately defensive.

Morgan just smiled patiently at him. "I also saw you yesterday on your way back up here. You could barely keep yourself upright." When House didn't reply anything, he continued somewhat more carefully. "I don't think you're not motivated to do the exercises, I think you actually _can't do_ them. And since I specifically set up your plan with the reduced muscle tone in mind, that basically leaves only one explanation..." If he expected House to reply, he was once again disappointed. "You haven't filled the prescription, have you." Not really a question.

When House still stoically ignored him, he leaned forward slightly.

"Why not?" He kept eyeing the other man intently, until House finally looked up at him again, almost slamming the file shut.

"Because I can't!" he suddenly returned loudly; angrily.

"And why's that…" Morgan concentrated on not matching the other man's tone, instead focusing on keeping it calm, keeping it simple.

"Foreman doesn't – "

"Foreman's not the one treating you for this injury."

"No, but he's the one keeping me out of _jail_ right now," House immediately replied testily. "And it's not actually all that funny in there…"

"What does – "

He was loudly interrupted.

"Not taking more pain meds than he prescribes is one of the _rules_ he set for this." House sounded openly disgusted at the notion. Almost hurt. Definitely frustrated.

"Okay…" Morgan finally replied carefully. "But I don't think he had an additional injury in mind when he gave you that rule."

House rubbed his forehead wearily, once again averting his gaze. "Doesn't matter. I'm not gonna discuss this with him."

Morgan sat back slightly at that. "I see. – And will you allow _me_ to discuss it with him?"

House threw him a surprised glance, before immediately looking away again. "No," was all he finally replied.

"Dr House…" Once again half-word, half-sigh. "Without the physio, there's a significant risk that you're gonna do more damage to your knee."

"I know."

The orthopedist looked surprised by the sudden concession. "Okay, so… May I talk to Dr Foreman?"

"No."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Then what?"

"I'll do the physio."

The orthopedist frowned at that. "But how…?"

"Doesn't matter. I'll do all the exercises you want, so… You can back off now."

Somewhat hesitantly, Morgan finally stood up again and turned to leave, an unhappy expression on his face.

Once he had reached the door, House's voice stopped him.

"Hey!"

He turned around to find the other man holding the patient file out for him.

"He's gonna need dialysis." House somewhat hesitantly met his gaze. "May not seem that bad right now, but it's gonna be. Also, you should try 200 mg of furosemide, single dose, to help correct the oliguria. And needless to say you need to stop the Streptomycin, which most probably caused the ATN in the first place..."

Nodding slightly with a minute smile on his face, Morgan took the file back. "Thanks, House. I appreciate it."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys... :) Just wanted to quickly thank you all for your very nice comments and reviews! They really keep me going. :) But back to the story... Have a great weekend!**

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"What happened?" Dr. Morgan calmly approached his fellow and their patient who was right now sitting, leaning against one of the walls of the PT gym.

"Nothing." House sounded – as per usual – irritated, to say the least...

His fellow rolled his eyes. "He fainted."

House shot him an annoyed glance at that. "I didn't faint. I – "

"Unexpectedly lost consciousness," the physiotherapist immediately interrupted. "Commonly referred to as 'fainting'." Then, turning towards his boss: "He won't let me touch him." He vaguely gestured towards the blood-pressure cuff he was holding.

House immediately spoke again. "I'm _fine_."

Morgan decided to end their quarrel for now and take initiative. He turned slightly to directly face their patient. "You wanna move over to one of the benches?"

House immediately averted his gaze. "Not right now," was the very brief reply, more mumbled than spoken.

Morgan nodded slightly, but now crouched down next to the other man. "You hurt anything? Hit your head?" He was already reaching for his penlight.

House briefly shook his head, the PT assistant speaking up from behind to elaborate: "He fell a little awkwardly on his right side; might have hurt his shoulder if anything… I don't think he hit his head." Dr Morgan nodded, but the other man already continued: "I still think he should be checked out. We have no idea _why_ he fainted. Maybe there's something wrong neurologically…"

House rolled his eyes at that, but before he could even shoot down the idea, Morgan already interrupted again. "Lift up your shirt, please."

Frowning slightly, House hesitated a moment before finally simply following the request.

Morgan briefly palpated his ribs on the right side, before quickly scanning the rest of his torso. "Looks alright." Then his hands went to the right shoulder. "Anything hurt around here?" He probed the joint, then the collarbone lightly, watching House for reactions. There weren't any.

"I'm _fine_!" Louder this time, but he was still very pale.

Morgan nodded, finally searching the other man's eyes. "So. What happened."

House looked away at the question, tensely rubbing his forehead, but not replying anything.

"He just got down from one of the tables. I asked him to come to the pool…"

Morgan frowned slighty at that. "What had you been doing before?"

"Just some range of motion exercises." His fellow sounded immediately defensive. "Nothing that wasn't on your plan. Nothing we haven't done before."

Morgen once again eyed his patient critically. "You ready to move now…?"

Just a brief nod.

They helped him over to one of the benches, the frown on Morgan's face deepening when he noticed that House still seemed somewhat unsteady, leaning heavily on both of them for support. Once they had carefully helped him sit down, sweat was once again standing out on his forehead.

"You need to lie down…?" Morgan didn't like how shaky the man seemed.

House shook his head, but leaned forward slightly.

The assistant got nervous again. "Dr Morgan… Don't you think it would be a good idea to – "

The orthopedist interrupted him calmly. "Go get a blood draw kit, please." Then he nodded towards the blood pressure gauge. "And leave me that."

Handing over the device, the younger man still hesitated. "And should I ask for a consult from – "

"He'll be fine!" Slowly but surely, even Morgan was losing his patience with the kid's obvious nervousness. Throwing his colleague a slightly apologetic glance, he continued more quietly: "Just get the kit, please."

Once the younger man had left the room, House threw Morgan another unhappy glance. "My blood is fine. It's my _knee_ you're supposed to be treating." When the orthopedist just started taking his blood pressure without replying anything, House continued more quietly. "And I didn't take anything, if that's what you're thinking…"

Morgan looked up sharply at that, surprise on his face. "You think I wanna do a drug screening?! That's not what this is about at all…" Completing the blood pressure measurement, he slowly removed the cuff again. "You seem to have lost some weight. – I actually do just wanna check your blood."

House was still frowning at him. "I'm not sick."

"Okay… But are you eating?" Morgan finally asked a little testily.

"Of course I'm eating! I'm not an idiot…"

The orthopedist regarded him calmly, simply ignoring his obvious anger. "Vomiting then…?" When House didn't reply anything, he pressed gently: "'Cause you seem – "

"I'm in pain!" House finally yelled, causing the other man to flinch slightly at the sudden increase in volume. He immediately deflated again, a resigned and even somewhat guilty look on his face.

"I know." Morgan eventually returned calmly, not moving from his position at House's side. "You're also an ass." To the other man's slightly questioning glance, he immediately clarified: "I've been asking you to switch meds; _repeatedly_ now. But instead you're… _pigheaded_ enough to force us to constantly hurt you and to stress your system to the point of near collapse! Or _actual_ collapse; I'm not quite sure about that yet…"

That was the moment the PT assistant chose to make his reappearance. He handed over the blood draw kit and held something out to House that looked suspiciously like some sort of sports drink. Then he eyed their patient worriedly. "How are you feeling…?"

House nodded slightly in response, but immediately opened the bottle. "I'm fine. As I've actually told you multiple times by now." Then, a lot less sharply: "And stop looking so damn guilty. This had nothing to do with you…"

He acknowledged Morgan's blood-drawing activities with a cursory glance, before simply leaning back slightly and taking a long drink from the bottle. Handing the blood draw kit – plus two filled tubes – back to his assistant, Morgan finally eyed his patient again.

"So… A nice long trip to the cafeteria or a banana bag – what's it gonna be?" House hesitated. "I'm throwing in some pain meds and an anti-emetic as an hors d'oeuvre if you wanna try some actual food…" He softened the statement with a small smile.

Another long moment of silence, before House finally just nodded slightly, a somewhat determined look on his face now. – He slowly started pushing himself to his feet.

Morgan mirrowed the movement, still keeping a close eye on the other man, while trying not to be too obvious about it. "Great! Let's step by my office first then…" He handed House his crutches.

Accepting them gratefully for once, House still frowned slightly at the orthopedist. "You're not actually coming to watch me eat, are you." Not really a question.

Morgan exhaled on a strange sort of half-laugh. "Oh, believe me House… I'm coming."

 **tbc... :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Just to clarify... The punch Wilson refers to in this chapter was not mentioned previously here, but happened on the show at the end of episode 8.02 ("Transplant") when Wilson punched House to "get even" with him... But now onto the next chapter - hope you enjoy! :)  
**

* * *

"Saw you in the cafeteria yesterday." Wilson sat down opposite his friend's desk waiting for House to put down the journal he had been reading. When the older man just looked at him with a small frown, Wilson completed the question. "Was that Morgan from orthopedics with you? I thought you hated the guy!"

House leaned back slightly at that, visibly relaxing now that he knew where the conversation was going.

"Hate him blocking my _office_ space. – And it wasn't a social thing…"

"Huh," Wilson eyed him skeptically at that. "You were eating, he was eating, there was an exchange of words… Sure _looked_ like a 'social thing'."

When House just started rubbing his forehead without replying anything, Wilson slowly continued: "Which is funny. 'Cause you've been actually blowing _me_ off for days now. – Should I be jealous?"

House rolled his eyes at the sarcastic comment, briefly meeting his friend's questioning gaze before finally admitting with obvious reluctance: "I haven't been feeling great lately."

Wilson immediately nodded. "I know. But I thought it was your _knee_ that was injured, not your _stomach._ " When no response was coming he added somewhat more quietly: "Is this about me punching you?"

House couldn't help but snort at that. "No. – This isn't about anything… Like I said: I just haven't been feeling so great."

Wilson nodded slowly again, pointing a somewhat accusing finger at his friend. "Good. 'Cause you specifically told me to – "

"It's not about the punch, Wilson! Everything's fine. And you hit like a girl, anyway…"

"Okay, so… What about this Morgan guy then?"

House picked up the journal again even though he didn't start reading. "What about him?"

"Do you two, you know," Wilson gestured expansively with one hand, "get along?"

Just a vague nod. "He's okay, I guess."

Wilson imitated a comically shocked expression. "He's… _okay_? – _Wow_." He shook his head slightly in apparent disbelief. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that about another human being. Definitely not one of your doctors…"

House rolled his eyes again before returning sarcastically: "Yeah, see? I'm open-minded like that."

"So," Wilson finally summarized with a soft smile, "nothing for me to do really? – Nothing to moralize about? No asses to kick…?"

"Nah, he's got… everything under control I guess."

* * *

"Dr Morgan!" Foreman quickly approached the orthopedist intercepting him just before he had reached the elevators.

"Dr Foreman." A somewhat strained smile. Somehow, Morgan had a strong idea of what this would be about…

"Is this actually coming from you?" Foreman held up a memo the orthopedist had issued the day before.

"Sure has my name and seal on it…"

Foreman rolled his eyes at that. "Which doesn't really mean anything when it's about House." Then, directly this time: "Did you actually prescribe different pain medication for him? – Oxycodone…?"

Morgan was hard-pressed not to roll his eyes at the other man's mistrust. "Yes." He forced himself to patience. "I actually suggested – and finally convinced him of – this change in medication."

Foreman was still eyeing him skeptically. "For a partial ACL tear?" Tone incredulous.

"Dr Foreman," Morgan started rubbing his forehead in a universal gesture of frustration. "I assume you're very familiar with Dr House's previous injury concerning that leg. You've been his fellow for – what – 6 years?"

"Give or take," Foreman reluctantly allowed looking vaguely uncomfortable.

"Then I'm sure you're aware of the extent of the muscle and nerve damage he has suffered, as well as his chronic pain situation. And the acute injury concerns not just his ACL, but also part of the quadriceps muscle, which has led to an obvious increase in his pain levels. In order to ensure an effective rehabilitation and prevent any more long-term damage, we need to adjust his medication accordingly. – Just as the note says…" He nodded towards the piece of paper Foreman was still holding between them.

"But oxycodone?" Foreman's tone increased a little in sharpness. "I'm sure _you're_ aware of the difficulties he's been having with the addictive potential of just Vicodin. Do you really think it's wise to now switch him to a drug that's – "

"I think it _isn't_ wise to increase the dosage of the Vicodin to liver-failure proportions. Which would have been the medical alternative. And I also think it isn't wise to bring him into a position where he feels the need to resort to other drastical measures to supplement what you've been prescribing for him with uncontrolled substances! And I find it even less wise to just let him suffer through intolerable amounts of pain for weeks on end, risking an unsuccessful rehabilitation of the knee as well as a sharp decline in his overall condition and health. – So, Dr Foreman, what do you think we should do, _wisely_?"

Stunned silence for a minute. Then Foreman reluctantly nodded his head. "Okay. I see your point, but I also know House." He started gesturing wildly. "The guy's an addict! There's no way knowing if he's giving you accurate pain ratings… If he's even _able_ to give accurate ratings!"

Morgan's expression hardened slightly at that. "Dr House has lost 10 pounds over the last week. He's barely able to go through his treatment regimen without either puking or fainting. – That sound like a man faking pain to score drugs to you?!"

Foreman just looked at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He finally replied with a reluctant nod. "Okay. I trust your experience and medical judgment on this." He sounded once again calm, if slightly resigned as well. "But I'm telling you now… I'm gonna be looking for you if he's unwilling – or unable – to go back to the Vicodin at some point."

Morgan calmly held his gaze. "So noted," was all he finally returned, watching the other man retreat somewhat huffily with what looked like a barely suppressed eye-roll.

Exhaling slowly, a small smile finally showed on the ortho's face. House was definitely starting to rub off on him – whatever that meant… Nothing good for his career certainly. Still smiling he finally got on that elevator. Time to remove a few casts…


End file.
